Pain and Truth
by chaste-aeon
Summary: Choosing death over this pain was easier but much to his frustration, he could never die from these curses. The truth he always believed in was faux. He hated every memeber of his family until one night. Lost was he. One-shot fic. Dhr


Discalimer: I don't own any of this and if I do then I wouldn't have any problem of staying in this house. Supernaturalist isn't mine too. The only thing I own is the plot and everything you recognize isn't mine.

A.N. I thought about this two nights before when something unpleasant happened to me. I didn't cry, fortunately. This fic was supposed to be full of pain and misery and much better but that night, I was on my bed and I wasn't allowed to get write anything else because it was dark. I read the first few chapters of the "Supernaturalist" because I left my palm in our library (home) and I didn't want my mom to yell at me again so I read that and using my 7610 as the only source of light. When my eyes grew tired, I decided to stop and think instead. The next day, since I wasn't allowed to use the computer... I brought out my palm and its keyboard and typed this. It would edited in the future when summer ends or maybe sooner. It's too hot and I pasted it at Microsoft Word to see how long it would be. I don't have time to correct it, so forgive me for all the errors that this fic has. It starts as boring but this is a Dhr fic. Subtle it stared but I wanted a one-shot fic and yesterday when I typed this... I hadn't really thought of categorizing is as such. Reviews are welcomed and as well creative criticisms. It makes one a better writer...

The sun was blazing hot and its heat was scourging. Any person outside would have been burned a thousand degrees; not only that, but he wouldn't be able to withstand 2 seconds outside. This "environment" wasn't at all natural; magical it was, enchanted with devious charms. It could have been called laser by the muggles but obviously, it was very different from the latter. A lot different...

A question of an ordinary man would be this. "What in the world would that have been? Who would be crazy enough to administer such things." Yes, an ordinary man would have been called a muggle. A muggle was nothing compared to them... was a bug to be squashed and killed by them. They weren't anything of use and they come as idiots who shame the wizarding world. A breed that was led to be appalled of was muggle-borns. Wretched things they were, disgusting all the same; these were what had been taught to him.

Another question would be then: "Why?" Ah, the simplest of all questions and it proves how the elder Malfoy was fond of torturing other people. It was as easy as that, like a Sunday troll with no difficulties and a garden so magnificent. He was fond of bringing terror and much to the victim's dismay: agony, in cases one would never dream of...

A lad, no less than 17 years old was crouched on a corner, his face buried and hair draping over. Blond hair... silver blond hair was the color of his hair. None in the wizarding world had this kind of hair in their ancestry except the Malfoys who were known to be very great supporters of Voldermort; also, they are known to hate muggle-borns and muggles; everyone who are known to have muggle blood even if they had wizard blood within them. A muggle-born would be called a _mudblood_ because of the tainted blood he has. No amount of pure-blood could save his life from the terrible fate he would have once the Dark Lord emerges and have dealt with people who have irked him: Dumbledore or Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived; he wouldn't care less.

The room was eerily quiet except for heavy panting that could be heard; soft it was but clearly heard. The young Malfoy raised his head slowly, something of a dark color was dripping from his forehead, slowly, falling to the marble floors where once it was immaculately clean and pristine. He rubbed it off using his wand hand and glared at his stained hands. He stood abruptly, staggering a few moments before regaining his composure and then he walked cautiously, squinting at times until he neared his drawer. He remembered his father telling him that blood, muggle blood of whom he had tortured gave it's crimson color to the aforementioned. Its dark crimson red will never wash-out for it is enchanted amongst other things in this room.

Contemptible it was, the boy could do nothing, save if he wanted Unforgivables sent to him if he would show his discomfort; nothing would happen anyway, he would just feel pain. Before pulling and opening the abovementioned, he took a deep breath, holding it and mentally praying to the Gods above not to forsake him this time. He needed this badly and no help can be upon him other than himself. He could do no wonders either for he was trained at Dark Arts and not first aid (something he heard of muggle), if that could even help but he wouldn't be surprise if nothing good would come of it.

A relief sigh escaped his lips and he pushed his unstable hand to the object he was looking for. 11 inches made of Rowan with dragon haired dipped in its own blood. He grasp the object, savoring its feeling and comfort it gave him; like a child whose toy was confiscated only to see it returned tattered and frayed; but nevertheless brought much happiness to him.

He muttered a low dark spell that he knew of which could have alleviate him of his pain, even though it could do as much as a pin it would have to do. He collapsed, fortunately on his bed which he welcomed full-heartedly.

The young Malfoy was exhausted beyond his limits and you would argue that hadn't he been training for Quidditch. What you didn't know was not only does he have Quidditch training at Hogwarts but his father has paid a personal trainer that could have been an equivalent of Professor Snape with his harsh attitude and personality; but you could ask, no doubt even with these kinds of training he couldn't possibly be that exhausted, right? Wrong. Those trainings that he has endured could never strengthen him and prepare him against the Unforgivables and countless curses his father sends him. The blond laughed bitterly, obviously finding no humour with his thoughts.

You might ask, Malfoy? Draco Malfoy: tortured and bitter towards his father? The Draco Malfoy whose life seemed perfect, his very wish granted and never experiencing physical pain? Yes. The very same Draco Malfoy. People think that he has a perfect life, numerous people envy him because of his strong presence, his wealth, his looks and his intelligence. What more could anyone ask? He was as famous if not more than that Potter; the-boy-who-lived, he was nothing if not for his scar and his trademark glasses and unruly hair which was always messed up no matter what happened.

Draco never had everything, contrary to popular belief, and even though he had all these... all these material things, he never had a true family, a true father. He didn't know what feelings were except pain for it was the only thing that he felt and nothing else. His mother was always under the Imperious curse and when she do break through it which was rare, she could do nothing and would just suffer the Crutacious curse again. It was when he learned of anger. He felt anger towards his so-called father. Torturing him was enough but to even include his mother was barbaric!

It all started when he innocently asked why they should follow the Dark Lord when it goes against all their beliefs. It didn't make any sense and his father was bowing down, licking the dirt's hems. Revolting, how un-Malfoy it was; but his father not only punished him for his "ignorance" but he had to listen to the boring lectures and hours and hours did it continue depriving him of leisure time. Also another fact would be when he learned of his mother being under the Imperious curse. His mother never had been affectionate nor did she talk to him having the compassion of a mother when his father had always told him how shameful he had been for he was beaten by a mudblood. It was one of the nights when they had a family dinner and his father, Lucius had to go to a meeting; a death eater meeting of course. After his father had left the Malfoy Manor he went to his room, as always and read of Dark Arts. Unexpectedly, his mother entered his room, surprising him with a face of emotion he'd never seen his mother wear. At the sight of him, Narcissa Malfoy wept, caring not for the tears that constantly swooned down her porcelain-like face which was always a status symbol for the Malfoys. It was she who kept appearances to the public, ragaining honor to the Malfoy's name with charities and donations and the oh-so pleasant personality with compassion she never showed to her son, Draco, except now.

Narcissa, was scuttling towards her son as if it was his end. Draco on the other hand was not believing what he was seeing. He wanted to rub his eyes and pinch himself but restrained himself for it was not of a Malfoy to act like such. Instead, he cocked an inquiring eyebrow and nuzzled his head sideward, his hands still in the book, not moving an inch.

The lady of the house embraced her son tightly and Draco did not know what to do but awkwardly did he let go of his book and slowly did he wrapped his hands on his mother. Narcissa was sobbing endlessly but she had to explain her actions to her son for this meeting would be in vain and Draco's life would be shattered and sacrificed to darkness instead.

"Draco...listen to me. Listen to me carefully. I might not ever have another chance of- of telling you the truth and saving you from your fate that might not proved to be sealed yet and only you alone can save yourself." Narcissa said, between sobs and she wiped her tears quickly.

"I tell you this for I am under Lucius' Imperious Curse. I need not explain for you are a smart boy and I know you know of these things. I am sorry if I have never been affectionate towards you, if I never had the chance of showing you how and what a mother's love was. I am sorry for not having the power of stopping your father when he inflicts such tremendous pain on you. I can never forgive myself after all these years and if I would've known this will happen then I would have killed myself long ago that you would have never experience his wrath."

She stopped suddenly and lifted Draco's chin and had a good look with her eyes, a show of pride that he would never forgotten. "You are beautiful... so beautiful. Do you know that son?" She smiled, for the first time, it was a smile he truly saw as genuine, he felt his heart suddenly warmed.

"Do not... do not follow your father's foot steps. I beg of you, son. You are not meant for those- those inhuman acts. You should not for your soul will rot in Demons' Vortex or suffer Eternal Damnation. Son, I plead and beg and I warn you for no mother would want her son to end up there. I care for you too much and I cannot and will not bear what might cloud over you. I am always here although locked internally, I feel your pain as much as I feel your sadness and confusion." Narcissa coughed and took a deep breath. She had Draco's full attention, alright. He never had thought he would hear such things from his mother. He had hated his family but now he regretted hating his mother. It wasn't her fault at all and it angered him to see his mother in so much pain, grieving for him.

"Mum, I understand. I-" Narcissa beckoned him to stop, gesturing a shh and smiled gently at him.

"I am not sure for I have no power over Lucius and I cannot fight his curses but remember everything I told you. Ask help from Professors at Hogwarts and they will help you. You will be safer there. Fear not the Lioness. Hard your life will be but endure it and you will be rewarded. Do not stray from the light..."

Narcissa gave him a ring with emerald, ruby, rose-colored and sapphire stones alternating after each other. He didn't question for Narcissa held him tighter in her arms... not letting go.

"Do not stray from the light..." Draco Malfoy mumbled in his sleep not knowing what he has just said would save his life.

Draco Malfoy woke up grudgingly unaware of the previous night's talk with his mother. Why on earth he woke up was not the question he had in mind. Nothing was at the moment... until he reached their dining room where his mother was eating a Foccacia bread with garlic butter.

"Good morning, mum." He said, yawning and stretching but he froze. Mum? When did he call his mother, mum? Mum was a word not suited for Malfoys, it was so... so... fluffy? Where did he even get the word fluffy? He was losing his mind and it wasn't helping that Lucius came in the dining room and smirked at his son.  
"Do you need another lesson, boy? Do remember your manners." Lucius had furtive sneer plastered on his face.

Draco straightened himself out and apologized to his father in a formal voice which had been an all too familiar statement for him. "I'm sorry father. It would never happen again."

Lucius raised his head in triumph and smugly said, "Make sure of that. I don't want that belligerent tone of yours."

Draco was shocked, the shock he could ever come close to that is. His damn tone wasn't near belligerent but maybe his father of his was too stupid to realize that. Draco was being surprise today and it wasn't a record he would like to set. He didn't know of course that something more would happen.

How could his mum tolerate Lucius for 17 years... or maybe more? He never knew...wait- mum? Bloody hell. He called her mum again, he never referred to his mother as mum since-... last night; his mind supplied timorously. Oh God. Oh freakin' God. That- that talk last night... it was real? Oh-

"Boy." Lucius' voice was imperative and derogatory. "I have an ordeal for you. I don't want to be disappointed." With that, Lucius stood up from his chair and threw the napkin after dabbing it lightly at the corners of his mouth. He then looked expectantly at Draco and turned about, leaving the dining room.

Draco clenched his jaw and followed his father. Mother would have to wait for it wasn't wise to infuriate Lucius this early at a time. The study room. It was always in that study room where his father conducted his talks with him. He pushed the giant, white doors, seeing Lucius waiting for him. Draco's demeanor suddenly shifted to a rigid one, squaring his shoulders and putting an emotionless face for his father to see.

"Father, I am here."

"Do not remind me." Lucius replied, glaring at his son but Draco did not flinch nor did he batter a lid and instead, matched his father's glare with his own eyes. Lucius laughed in which Draco took as an insane manner, however, he would not let his foolishness control him now for another punishment would be inflicted.

"Kill this mudblood." His father said, stern that was proved not to be spurned in anyway.

Draco was perplexed, the second time today. He didn't want to kill anyone yet and the moment he saw the victim's eyes, he felt a sudden jolt which tore his body. Granger. It was Granger... The person who he never figured out no matter how hard he analyzed her. She was the cause of his confusion in the first place. She was everything but what his father had told him of muggles. She contradicted every belief he had and a proof would be how she always had beaten him.

Hermione Granger was battered and was sprawled against the cold floor. Her hair wet with sweat and if he right: blood; dry blood. He wondered how long was she tortured. She wasn't like him, like a Malfoy and she wasn't used to tortures. How was she? Was she near death? How could he help her in that moment? He had no intention on killing her... no. He won't agree to his father, not anymore. He's sick and tired of being a dog and following all what his father wants.

"No." Draco's sudden volatile answer earned him a baleful look from his father.

"No. I will not end up like you." Draco reiterated and he hope it would be the last time he would. His exterior was calm and cold but his insides were wreck and were on a rampage. It took great effort for him to keep the cold look on his face and he was determined not to falter.

"Crucio!" A red light was thrown towards him, sending him the same position in which Granger was currently was. "You disappoint me." Lucius chided. "You stress me and I will teach you your lesson that you will never forget."

_You always say that; but does that lesson end up the last? I don't think so._ Draco thought, wanting to say it aloud but he could not for he wanted to curb the screams of pain he was sure of emitting. He was sure of screaming even though he did not hear his voice but a higher pitch, a girl's scream. It struck him, it wasn't he who was screaming but Hermione. Now when did Granger become Hermione? None of that now, he was supposed to contrive a plan to escape.

The curse was taken off of him leaving him panting. He pressed his elbows against the floor, urging himself to stand, he then pressed his palm on the floor when he heard another Crucio aimed at him. He fell the moment he felt the curse upon him. Another curling scream was heard from Hermione.

The pain was excruciating, this wasn't just a Crutacious curse based from his experience. It shouldn't have affected him this strong. This was something new his father came up with. He was beyond frazzled. He had to fight off this curse, whatever it was. Ungainly it was, he stood up, continuously staggering, his knee trembling. He had long lost credence with what his father had told him through the ages and those things were not needed to insinuate at the moment. There were far more crucial things to handle than those otiose and futile things.

Long before, he wanted to die instead. Choosing death over this pain was easier but much to his frustration, he could never die from these curses. His father always made sure that he cleaned himself up, concealing any marred skin. Bad luck it was and he could never bring death to himself by himself. That would cost him Eternal Damnation. Not that he did believe it but he would have no chance on repenting for it if it does ever happen.

Now, more than ever... if he wanted to save Hermione then it would be escape. He read a few chapters of this muggle book called "Supernaturalist" and they had three fates that they have no power over. Death, adoption and escape. Adoption would prove futile nonetheless and death was something the children would have to face sooner or later. There was this boy whose name was Cosmo or something that starts with a C. Sadly, he wasn't able to finish because the moment his father had learned of this book, he tore it and burned it. He earned a slap from his father, telling him the muggle books were out of bounds.

His father was laughing manically and it tore him to listen. His father was talking and Draco for one didn't listen and concentrated on helping Hermione.

"Letters which I found were kept under you clothes. I find it... amusing." Lucius said, a malicious glint in his eyes.

Draco froze and if time could have stopped it was this time when it did. The letters did not only have an impact on Draco but Hermione as well. She remembered sending them to "lost". _Lost_ was a pen name her pen pal used and they've been friends over the years. Bloody hell. Her pen pal was Dra-Malfoy? The sweet guy who seemed to understand her was Draco? Bloody hell. Hermione didn't believe it, with just these letters she was just an inch away from falling for him. Him was Draco Malfoy. Him was the muggle hater. Him who didn't want to kill her now. Him... she loved.

"I never thought I would be open to anyone else. I never thought I could concede to someone like you. It feels like a fairytale..." Lucius read the letters with a falsetto.

Draco was overwhelmed and at last he did reach Hermione. He gripped her hand tight and whispered some words of comfort that he would never dream of saying to a mudblood... But how could it be her? It seemed that both teenagers were lost on what they should do right now. He unconsciously brushed the ring his mother gave him thinking: _Let us live. Let us live. We need to get out of here. Hermione wouldn't last any longer. _

Instantly, as soon as he saw the red light headed to them, his vision soon twirled. Round and round did the shelves go, Lucius usual sneer was replaced by wide-eyes, his image spinning around along with everything else.

He couldn't help but feel Somaesthesia. Gut sensations internally wasn't a thing for him and it only happened when he used portkeys. Damn. Oh no, not damn! The ring was a portkey! They're saved! _Alleluia!_

They fell from nowhere and they were separated. He wondered how could they have been separated with Hermione's steel grip on his shoulders. But they were and he would not complain for they were safe. He flounced towards Hermione and once again, collapse beside her and this time, no fancy bed caught him but he was content nevertheless.

Draco looked at Hermione's round chocolate eyes which were once were not in contempt to see him but happiness was what he saw. Hermione hugged Draco tightly... And tears were flowing freely down her face.

"Remember _Lost? _" Hermione's voice was soft and calm and it soothed him to hear it.

"Do you remember what I told you last? That I was feeling something more? I don't care what happened in our past for I trust you my life." She sniffed quietly and continued.

"Only four words summed up what I feel about you: I love you, Lost." Hermione whispered to him, and leaning comfortably towards Draco.

Silenced enveloped them. Draco was silent and it was hard what he was thinking. He gently withdrew his arms and looked elsewhere. After a few moments, he took a deep breath, still not looking at her.

Hermione's heart stopped beating, time stopped ticking, and everything was brought to a halt.

Draco said the four words and the next thing Hermione knew, she was crying.

AN: I know the story itself has errors which I could admit; I did miss words and went straight ahead to the next words or the next string of thoughts. I've edited it a little, (the word little emphasized greatly) I promise to return your reviews.

Oh, and for people who would got what the last part... I meant it as a cliff-hanger, more like of a suspense on what Draco said. It might be or might not have been a happy ending. It's for you to decide. I already considered this as just a one-shot fic. I've got no plans of continuing it. Unless you give me the right amount of motivation and any genius could support a continuation or suggestion then I'll be glad to do so, provided it's logical.


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